


The world yet to come

by irisdouglasiana



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Dramaaaa, F/M, what even is this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9136030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisdouglasiana/pseuds/irisdouglasiana
Summary: As far as Peggy's parents know, Daniel has a nondescript government job and Peggy works the switchboard at the phone company. They don’t know about the shuttering of the SSR and the creation of SHIELD, still less than a year old. They definitely don’t know that this belated honeymoon trip to Europe is a cover to meet with a Hydra mole.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A prequel of sorts to "This is yours to fight for."

When Peggy wakes, it takes her a moment to remember where she is. She blinks and takes in the light streaming through the lacy curtains; the stiff, floral-patterned sheets. Daniel, passed out next to her, a bit of drool dribbling down his cheek onto Peggy’s mother’s hand-embroidered pillowcase. She kisses him on the forehead and he mumbles her name without opening his eyes.

The flight into Heathrow the previous night was long and neither of them had been able to sleep much on the plane. They have one day in England to recover before flying out to Geneva to complete the mission. Better to let her husband rest, she decides, and she slips out of bed as quietly as she can. She shivers a bit as she pulls on her robe. Spring in Hampstead is colder than she remembers.

The floor creaks under her feet as she walks into the kitchen. Her mother is sitting at the table already, reading the newspaper. Her hair has more gray in it than brown now, and Peggy wonders if she’s lost a little weight as well. But she looks up and smiles at her daughter standing in the doorway. “Tea?”

“I’ve got it,” Peggy says. She lights the stove and sets the kettle in place before taking a seat.

Her mother sets down the paper. “I’m so glad you’re home. You and Daniel, both.”

“Of course, Mum.”

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and looks into her teacup. “I wonder…did you give any more thought about our last conversation?”

About moving back to England. Peggy stiffens. “Mum, I already told you, we’re very happy in California. Besides, both our jobs are there.”

“Yes, but…”

The teakettle starts to whistle, and Peggy jumps up from her seat to turn off the burner. She didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone and she doesn’t want to have it now.

Her mother, on the other hand, is determined to have it. “…well, you’re married. Shouldn’t it be time to settle down? What about when you have children?”

Peggy sets her cup down on the table with a thunk, almost hard enough to break it. “Mum.”

She nervously winds her fingers through her graying hair and lowers her voice. “Peggy, if you and Daniel don’t make enough money, your father could help him find something here. I just want you to be taken care of.”

“Taken care of!” Peggy exclaims before she can stop herself. “We take care of each other, and it has nothing to do with _money_.”

“Forgive me for asking about your well-being,” her mother says tightly. She forces a smile and changes the subject. “You were both quite comfortable last night, I hope?”

“Yes, very,” Peggy says, relieved. “Though we could have stayed upstairs; I don’t like putting you and Dad out of your own room.”

“Oh, well, but all those stairs…” her mother stutters, “I just thought…I wasn’t sure. Is there anything else he—the two of you need? How about the lavatory? Did I forget something?”

“It’s _fine_ , Mum,” she says, her words coming out a little harsher than intended. “Daniel’s not an invalid, you realize?”

“I know that, Peggy,” she says quietly. “I’m trying.”

Peggy makes herself exhale. She knows her mother means well, and she had hoped that with all the time and distance between them, it would somehow make things easier when they did meet. That maybe they would be able to have a conversation without ending up at each other’s throats. So much for that.

A lifetime ago, when she had dried her eyes, set aside her ring and wedding dress, and taken up the SOE offer—even back then, some part of her had already known she was leaving home for good. She was grieving and afraid and just nineteen years old, and the whole world was ahead of her. Hampstead, with its wide green lawns and stately brick houses and ancient oak trees, felt so small in comparison.

And yet, here her mother sits silently before her, hands tightly clasped around her cup of tea, staring down at the table. Still waiting for her children to return, after all this time. The war has been over for four years; Michael’s been gone almost ten.

“I’m sorry,” Peggy apologizes. Suddenly she doesn’t want her tea anymore. She sets her cup down in the sink. “I’ll go wake Daniel. I’m sure he’ll want breakfast.”

Daniel is awake when Peggy returns to her parents’ room, sitting on the bed and rummaging through their luggage for his clothes. He looks up as she comes in and shuts the door. “Hey.”

“Did you sleep well?” She takes a seat beside him and watches as he finishes buttoning up his shirt.

“Like a rock,” he says. He throws her a sideways glance as he moves on to his prosthesis. “Everything okay?”

“Mm,” she says noncommittally.

“Peg.”

“My mother asked me again about moving to England,” she sighs. “It’s out of the question, obviously.” As far as her parents know, Daniel has a nondescript government job and Peggy works the switchboard at the phone company. They don’t need to know about the shuttering of the SSR and the creation of SHIELD, still less than a year old. They certainly don’t need to know that this belated honeymoon trip to Europe is actually a cover so they can meet with a Hydra mole bearing valuable documents.

“Is that what you told her?”

“She didn’t like it very much.”

He sighs. “Well, she’s your mother.” He takes his crutch and stands up stiffly—still paying for more than half a day spent sitting on an airplane, she figures. Not that he would ever complain.

Last evening when they had arrived, she had caught Daniel looking around as they pulled up in front of the house, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. He blurted out in astonishment, “You grew up _here_?”—and she felt a little embarrassed, especially after coming from a short visit with Daniel’s father. They had spent a couple nights in Little Italy in his narrow two bedroom apartment with the peeling wallpaper and water-stained ceiling. The size of her parents’ house had seemed to unsettle Daniel a little bit as she took him around. She watched him stepping carefully, trying to avoid hitting anything with his crutch.

He’s still doing it this morning, she notices as she follows him back to the kitchen. Her mother gives Daniel a genuinely happy smile—though they’ve only met a few times, she adores him—and insists he and Peggy both sit while she bustles around serving toast, sausage, and coffee (“Daniel, you take yours black, I recall?”). Peggy’s father joins them a few minutes later, yawning and settling in at his usual spot at the table with his newspaper.

“It’s a shame you won’t be spending more time in Hampstead,” her mother tells Daniel. “It’s really very lovely in spring. I’m sure it’s much more peaceful here than in Los Angeles—a wonderful place to raise a family.”

Daniel nudges Peggy’s knee under the table. “Our itinerary’s set for this trip, unfortunately,” he tells her. “I’d love to see more when we visit next time.”

“You should at least visit the town; it’s very charming. Oh, and the library! Peggy spent so much time there as a little girl. And then there are so many gardens, and…”

Peggy’s father looks up from his newspaper. “I’m sure they have their own plans for today, Amanda,” he says fondly.

Peggy squeezes Daniel’s hand. “Yes. There’s someone we need to visit.”

* * *

The marker at the cemetery outside Hampstead is over an empty plot. _Beloved son and brother_ , the headstone reads. She remembers how just the week before they heard the news they had received a letter from Michael, written in his spidery handwriting, funny little drawings down the margins. And then he was gone, just like that.

She pulls her coat around her and leans in against Daniel. He says nothing, but his presence is reassuring, and it brings back another echo from the past: _I’m in this with you until the end_.

“I didn’t think it would be like this, coming home,” she says suddenly. _Home._ The word sounds strange on her lips. “You know, the last time I saw him, Michael told me once to stop pretending to be somebody else. To stop being the daughter my parents wanted me to be. If it had been up to them, I never would have left Hampstead. I would have married years ago, settled down, and had five children.”

He brushes a piece of hair out of her face. “If I was son my dad hoped for, I’d still be making sandwiches and mopping the floor in Manhattan. And I probably never would have met you. But here we are.”

_Here we are_. Peggy puts her hand over her stomach. Even though she can’t feel it yet, life is fluttering inside her, small and uncertain and precious.

“So when are we going to tell them?” Daniel asks. He puts his hand over hers. “You realize we can’t keep this a secret forever, right?”

Peggy elbows him gently. “Yes, I know, but…”

Daniel pulls her in for a kiss. “When you’re ready, then, dearest.”

She feels her eyes welling up with tears—she’s been so emotional lately—and she tilts her head back and blinks a few times. Here they are in the cemetery, surrounded by the dead, and yet the trees over their heads are leafing out, pushing through the tender buds, unfurling millimeter by millimeter. The birds chirp and flit about as the sun breaks through the clouds and warms them: the world coming back to life after a long winter.

No, she thinks, nothing ever really ends. The cycle continues. We march on.

* * *

Their plane leaves for Geneva in just a few hours, and Peggy is in the bedroom finishing with the packing when she hears a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” she says.

Her mother steps inside, smiling hesitantly. Her father had insisted on showing Daniel the car he was working on, and Daniel had little choice but smile and agree, though before he left he shot Peggy a look that more than adequately conveyed his feelings about this. Now she’s all but certain that this was a strategic move on her parents’ part—separate and interrogate.

She’s already repacked all the work-related items, fortunately, though her clothes are still in a pile on the bed. Her mother bustles her to the side and starts neatly laying out and folding her skirts and blouses. “Mum, you don’t have to—”

“Oh, hush. You’ll have a terrible time getting the wrinkles out later if you don’t fold these properly.”

Peggy arches an eyebrow. “Suit yourself.” (Spring 1940, she suddenly recalls: they had a tremendous row over the exact number of handkerchiefs Peggy needed to bring with her to the front. An hour later, her mother had come back to her room and helped her finish packing without a word. Peggy hadn’t dared look her in the eye. She didn’t want to see her silently pleading _don’t go don’t go don’t go_.)

They fold together in silence for a few minutes before her mother speaks again. “I know you’re not a little girl anymore, and I hope you’ll forgive me if it seems like I’m prying. Your father told me we needed to give you space. But as your mother, I worry about you.”

“There’s no need to worry. Daniel and I are doing fine financially and we’ve both got good jobs. I like working for the phone company.”

Her mother stiffens, hands hovering over a blue blouse. She suddenly straightens up and crosses her arms. “You never worked for the phone company.”

Peggy stares at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Of course I did. Do.”

“I’m not _stupid_ , Peggy.”

“Mum—”

She reaches out and grabs Peggy by her arm, almost hard enough to bruise. “There was never any need to go to America if you wanted to work for a _phone company_. Now, I don’t know exactly what you and your husband do, I don’t need you to tell me, and I don’t expect you’ll stop if I ask you to. But you’re not sparing my feelings by lying to me. I just…I want you to be safe.”

Peggy looks away first. “It’s important, Mum. This is something I, we, have to do.”

Her mother releases her arm. “I think of you every day,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “And Michael. The two of you. Every day.”

Peggy can’t even speak. But she nods, fighting back tears.

“I couldn’t bear to lose you. Be careful out there. Please.”

“I will,” she says. “And…Dad?”

Her mother snorts. “Oh, he hasn’t a clue. You know your father.” She embraces Peggy tightly. Peggy has been taller than her ever since her teenage years, and yet there’s still something strange about looking down at her. The words are there, on the tip of her tongue. _Daniel and I are going to have a baby. Mum, you’re going to be a grandmother_.

The words don’t come; the moment passes. Her mother steps back and wipes her eyes. “Goodness, look at the time. Here I am blithering away when you have a flight to catch! Do you have everything you need? You should take some of the scones I made yesterday; I don’t want you to be hungry. Or how about—”

Peggy takes her hand. “Mum,” she says warmly. “You’ve done so much for us already. We’re fine. I’ll call you after we arrive in Geneva.”

Her mother nods. “Don’t forget.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

* * *

Peggy’s still shaken up by the conversation with her mother even as they land in Geneva and take the train to the meeting place. She caught Daniel watching her on the flight over, brow furrowed slightly. She knew he was already concerned about her making this trip in the first place with the baby on the way, but he had known better than try to talk her out of it again. Not after their latest blowup back in Los Angeles a few weeks ago. This is uncharted territory for both of them, she keeps reminding herself.

The meeting place is an unremarkable café on the southern edge of the city. Peggy picks her seat at the counter and puts down her briefcase while Daniel sets aside his crutch and settles in on the stool next to her. He squeezes her elbow and smiles. She orders coffee for him and tea for herself, resurrecting her slightly rusty French. The clock on the wall reads just past 10:00. Any moment now.

At 10:06, a young woman with blond hair and a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over her face takes a seat beside Peggy at the counter and sets her slim brown briefcase on the floor. It’s almost identical to the one Peggy brought. She asks for coffee and then, still looking straight ahead of her, quietly says in French, “I believe I’ve been followed.”

Peggy feels Daniel tense up beside her, and she resists the urge to turn and look around. “We can protect you.”

The other woman sips her coffee. Her hands are shaking slightly. “I wanted to meet you in person to be sure this information goes to the right hands. I have heard a great deal about you, Director. They’ve had interest in you for years, even before the captain. And your husband too, more recently. Chief.” She gives Daniel a nod.

“How many are following?” Peggy asks.

“I saw three, but there are almost certainly more. Enough.” She glances down at the briefcase. “I have maps. Incomplete financials. Names of spies and corrupt officials. Some details on several of their weapons programs. I will leave before you; wait ten minutes and then go straight back to the train station and do not stop.”

“Let us help you,” Daniel interjects in surprisingly good French.

The woman gives him a small, bitter smile. “Nobody can help me.” She finishes her coffee, sets some money down on the counter, picks up Peggy’s briefcase instead of her own, and leaves.

“I don’t like this,” Daniel mutters. He shifts his weight on the stool uneasily.

“Me neither.” She makes her decision on the spot and passes the briefcase to Daniel. “Take this and leave through the kitchen. Go to headquarters. I’m going to follow her.”

“Peg, wait, we don’t know if it’s a—” Daniel hisses. He reaches for her arm and misses as he scrambles awkwardly off the stool. “Peggy!”

She doesn’t even pause as she leaves the café, her hand hovering over the gun at her waistband. At this hour, the streets are not yet busy, and she quickly spots the woman heading west at a brisk clip. Peggy picks up her pace, so intent on following her quarry that she doesn’t even see the man who steps out from the shadows and yanks her into the alley by her arm.

She stomps down hard on his foot and the man yelps and loosens his hold on her just enough to break free. She follows up with a solid punch to the face and almost gets in a knee to the groin before she hears the unmistakable click of a gun behind her.

“Easy now,” the second man says smoothly in French-accented English. “If you’ll just come with us quietly, there’s no need for anyone to get—”

He doesn’t even finish his sentence before Daniel slams the briefcase into the side of his head and sweeps his legs out from under him with his crutch. Peggy knees the first man in the crotch and he slides down to the ground, whimpering.

Daniel is breathing hard as he kneels down and picks up the gun the second man dropped. He glares at Peggy briefly as she handcuffs the men. He doesn’t have to say it, but it’s written all over his face. _Careless_. “You okay?” he asks instead, and she nods. “Where’s the damn backup?” he growls, and as if on cue, Agents Yasin and Renaud come galloping into the alley, panting.

“Sorry, Director,” Renaud cringes.

Peggy shakes her head. “Apologize later. The woman?”

Renaud and Yasin exchange glances. Yasin shakes his head. “We lost sight of her when Agent Sousa radioed for us to come here.”

She looks at Daniel sharply. His mouth is set in a thin line. “Bring these men in for questioning,” she orders as she takes the briefcase from Daniel. “We’ve got plenty of work ahead of us.”

* * *

Back in SHIELD’s small Geneva field office, it quickly grows apparent that the two attackers don’t have anything in the way of useful information—just a couple of regular thugs hired off the street. The contents of the briefcase, after it’s been carefully checked for booby traps and bugs, turn out to be entirely encoded and in need of deeper analysis once they return to the States. The Geneva office’s resources are stretched thin already, and the staff are new hires with more enthusiasm than experience. (“You bugged the other briefcase, Director? That’s brilliant!” Renaud exclaims in awe. Howard’s latest design is the size and thickness of a quarter and includes a tracking device as well—the only problem is that the transmitter seems to be malfunctioning. They leave Renaud on it to try to get it fixed.)

By the time the two suspects have been processed and turned over to the Swiss police and the main office updated on the situation, it’s well past supper. Peggy would be happy collapse into their bed back at the hotel, except there’s still so much to do, and she wants to get a head start on decoding the Hydra files, and, and…

It’s Daniel, of course, who finally pulls her away. He’s ominously quiet as he drives them to the hotel, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel. His mouth still drawn in that same tight line, and she can feel the tension building up like a pot set to boil. Even the hotel clerk senses it; he quickly thrusts the keys into Peggy’s hand before scurrying off to the back room.

“We need to talk,” Daniel says the moment she shuts the door behind them. He paces around the room, agitated and clearly spoiling for a fight.

Peggy wants a hot bath, she wants supper, she wants to go to sleep. Talking is the last thing she wants to do right now, but if it’s an argument he wants, then that’s what he’ll get. She sets down her bag and sits on the bed. “Go on and say it, then,” she dares him.

“What you did back there was unbelievably reckless,” he begins, throwing up his free hand as he stalks around. “What were you even thinking, putting yourself and the baby at risk like that?”

“We had to act quickly or the opportunity would have been lost,” she fires back. “And _you_ jeopardized the mission by not following my orders! We could have handed all that information right back to Hydra if things had gone wrong.”

“Don’t make this about me. We don’t even know if the intel is any good! They could be feeding us complete misinformation.”

“We always knew that was a possibility; that’s why we bugged the other suitcase. If you’re going to go against my orders again, I’ll send you back to headquarters and finish the mission myself,” she snaps.

“Oh?” he says, taking a step closer. “You’ll send me back to headquarters, like a misbehaving schoolboy? I’m your _husband_ ; I think I get some say in this. I knew this trip was a mistake.”

“Go ahead and leave, then, since you obviously know best.”

“Fine.” He stalks out and slams the door.

Peggy flops down on the bed, closes her eyes, and resists the urge to scream. All of a sudden, she guiltily remembers that she was supposed to call her mother to let her know they had arrived safely, but it’s late and she’s not in the mood anyway. She gets up and paces around the hotel room for a little while, retracing Daniel’s path. A wave of nausea passes through her and she ducks into the bathroom and kneels in front of the toilet until the feeling dissipates.

_Not now, baby_. She lowers her head against the cold tile on the floor and wonders if Daniel was right after all. Maybe she’s been trying to avoid considering too closely how having a child is going to change their lives; maybe she hasn’t wanted to think about how the risks she takes now could have greater consequences. She tries to picture herself in her mother’s role, tending to the garden and cooking (well, burning) dinner with a baby on her hip. A quiet life in the countryside or the suburbs. Hydra a distant, hazy threat, barely worth a thought.

Yet there is no way to forget the lessons she learned during and after the war. These are dangerous and uncertain times and having a child complicates everything, but she cannot lock the world back into a box even if she wanted to. There is no hiding from it; no space to run away. She and Daniel will have to work harder and fight smarter if they want a better world for their child.

Peggy picks herself up off the floor and prepares the water for a bath, letting the room fill up with steam. She lowers herself into the tub and lets the tension seep out of her body after a long day. When the water starts to turn cold, she changes into her pajamas and crawls into bed to wait for her husband to return.

* * *

She’s just on the verge of falling asleep when the door opens slowly and Daniel pokes his head inside. “Hey,” she says softly.

“Hey yourself,” he answers, leaning his crutch against the wall and taking a seat next to her. “I’m sorry about earlier. I understand what you were trying to do, and I shouldn’t have lost it like that. You scared me, that’s all.”

“I know. I’m sorry too.” She sits up and puts a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tightness in his muscles. “You were right; I acted without thinking and without sufficient backup.”

He squeezes her other hand and sighs. “What are we getting ourselves into?” He’s not talking about the mission.

“I don’t know, Daniel.” She looks down and swallows. Even before getting married, they had talked about having children, but always in the abstract—eventually, someday, maybe. The pregnancy had taken them by surprise. Not an unwelcome one, of course, but not something they had prepared for. Running a secret agency didn’t exactly leave much room for family planning.

He leans over and kisses her forehead. “Well, either way, we’re in it together, right?”

She cups his face in her hands and draws him in for a lengthy kiss. Suddenly, all she wants is to be comforted; to be touched and kissed all over. She wants him.

Her hands quickly move to his shirt, impatiently fumbling with the buttons. “Really, Peg?” Daniel murmurs, but he doesn’t object as his dress shirt flutters to the floor and his undershirt soon follows. He gently nips her bottom lip and plants kisses along her neck before pulling up her nightgown and drawing it over her head, leaving her naked except for her panties. It took a while for her to notice, but she’s certain now that both her breasts and stomach are starting to swell.

“You’re beautiful, Mrs. Sousa,” Daniel breathes as he runs his hands along the underside of her breasts. Every sensation feels magnified, and she shudders under his touch, stifling a small gasp.

“And _you_ need to get out of those pants, Mr. Sousa.” Peggy runs a finger down his bare chest to his belt buckle, and he laughs and obliges her: shoes, pants, and prosthesis all join the growing pile of clothes already on the floor. She doesn’t waste any more time; she pushes him until his back is against the headboard and she straddles him, grinding on his erection until he groans.

Daniel gets her back with his hands, however, sliding his fingers under her panties. She squeals when he finds her clitoris. He imitates the sound and she shoves his shoulder. “I do _not_ sound like—oh. Ohhhh.”

He sucks on her neck and keeps stroking patiently. She tilts her head back and lets him bring her closer and closer to the edge—no, nothing ever felt as good as this!—and finally over. She drops her head to his chest and shudders as he wraps his arms around her and holds her tight.

Once she’s had a moment to recover, she slips out of his grasp, slides down between his thighs, and pulls off his boxers with a grin. He tenses up and gasps her name as she takes him into her mouth. “Go easy,” he warns her. “I want to finish inside of you.”

She wants that too, so it’s not long before she straddles him again and guides him inside of her. She’s so wet she’s nearly dripping. “God, Daniel,” she whispers as she begins to move her hips. He matches her rhythm, thrusting faster and faster until they’re both covered in sweat. She digs her fingernails into his shoulders and holds on as he comes, feeling his whole body shake with pleasure. She loves that she’s the only one who gets to see this version of him: not Agent, not Chief, no roles to play, no need to be anybody else. Just Daniel. Just hers.

“We’ve made an awful mess here, haven’t we?” she jokes, once he’s relaxed in her arms. She slides off of him and goes to grab a few towels from the bathroom.

“We sure did,” he laughs as he cleans himself off before flopping back down on the bed next to Peggy. She curls up in his arms and he kisses her forehead. “Still a team, right?”

“A wonderful team,” she says firmly. She traces a finger along his shoulder and up his neck. How did she ever get so lucky?

“What?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just…sometimes I can’t believe my good fortune in finding you.”

He grins. “Well, I _am_ pretty great.”

She smacks his chest, but not too hard. “We do need to talk, don’t we?” she sighs, dropping her hand to her stomach. “About…”

“Yeah,” he says a little uneasily. “Yeah. I think…I think one of us needs to pull back on field work.”

She bristles. “If you think that I’m about to spend the remainder of my career chained to a desk, Daniel, I can tell you that’s not bloody likely—”

“I mean myself,” Daniel interrupts. He exhales slowly. “I know how unhappy you’d be with a desk job, and, well, it’s not like there aren’t plenty of other agents who can do what I do in the field, or better.”

“That’s not true.”

“I appreciate that, Peg, but it’s true and you know it.” He looks away. “And I can’t lie to you: this job is getting harder on my body and I’m not getting any younger.”

“Daniel, I cannot ask you to do this.” She remembers their early days at the SSR in New York, both of them fighting so hard for respect and the chance to prove themselves. And her experiences weren’t the same as his; he was a man, of course, but they both knew what it felt like to be glanced at and dismissed out of hand. To give it up, after all this time…

“This is my choice,” he reminds her gently.

“And what would you do instead?”

He stares up at the ceiling. “SHIELD is expanding operations. Some of the staff comes with a lot of experience, but we’ve got all these new hires too. Agents like Renaud and Yasin—they’re bright and eager, but they need proper training. I could do that. And that would give me more time at home too, once the baby arrives.”

It makes sense. She can see right away that this is a role that would suit him, and it’s certainly an area where the new agency needs help. “I see you’ve thought this through.”

He shrugs. “It’s been on my mind for weeks. After you told me you were pregnant, I started thinking about what would happen if one or both of us didn’t come back from a mission. This is a whole different kind of responsibility we’re taking on now, whether we’re ready for it or not.”

“I know, darling,” she says. She slips her hand into his. “And I don’t have any better ideas, I just…I don’t want you to be frustrated in your work, or feel like you’ve been pushed to the side.”

He lifts her hand and kisses her fingers. “With you? Never, as long as it’s at your side.”

She smiles. “And I, with you.”

Peggy could spend an eternity lying there next to him, perfectly content. She listens as his breathing becomes slow and even, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, until finally she allows herself to let go of the events of the day and drift to sleep.

* * *

The phone rings out shrilly just as the sun is starting to rise. She rolls over on her side with a groan and answers it. “Yes?”

“This is Charlotte. I just wanted to let you know that the dry cleaning is ready for pickup.”

“Thank you; we’ll be there shortly.” She hangs up and rushes to the bathroom to vomit.

Daniel is already up by the time she’s finished. “You all right?” he asks, trying to keep his voice casual—her morning sickness is more alarming to him than it is to her.

“I’m fine,” she says briskly as she gropes around for her clothes. “Renaud’s got the transmitter working. Time to go.”

“Good.” He frowns as he repacks the suitcase. “That’s strange, I can’t find my shirts. I know I packed them.”

“Oh.” Peggy flushes as she remembers. “Um.”

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows.

“I…may have unintentionally put them in the bugged briefcase. My mother distracted me while I was repacking.”

“Seriously? _All_ my shirts?”

“You’ve got the one you were wearing yesterday,” she points out lamely. “And you still have the rest of your clothes.”

He sighs and buttons up the rumpled shirt he was wearing earlier. “My favorite Hawaiian shirt was in there, Peg.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, though part of her isn’t terribly sorry. The shirt in question is—in her opinion—positively hideous, with a palm tree and flamingo pattern on a mustard yellow and turquoise background. Daniel loves it. No accounting for taste, but she knew that when she married him. “How can I make it up to you?”

He looks her up and down with a sly smile. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something. You always do.”

The sun is up by the time they make it back to the Geneva field office. There’s barely enough space for all four of them in there as they crowd around Renaud’s desk to look at the transmitter. “The device isn’t picking up sound very well—mostly just static,” Renaud tells them apologetically. The younger agent’s blouse is wrinkled and she has bags under his eyes from a long night of work, but she can still barely contain her excitement as she points at the small screen. “Look at where the tracker is. That’s close to the Palais des Nations—the European office for the United Nations.”

“There’s been a major diplomatic conference taking place there since April with representatives from over sixty countries,” Yasin adds. “But it makes no sense. Why would the mole take the briefcase there?”

Daniel looks uneasy. “Because it’s a trap. And it’s set for us.”

“Of course,” Peggy replies. “I suggest we spring it.”

“And _I_ suggest we be smart about our approach. We don’t even know exactly what we’re getting into here. We were prepared to handle one supposed Hydra mole; we don’t have the manpower for much more than that. Not if we go it alone.”

She notices the two other agents exchange glances, clearly intent on staying out of this particular disagreement. “We can call in to the field office in Paris now, but it will take hours for them to arrive. I say we go in and make a preliminary assessment of the situation. If necessary, we’ll retreat and wait for backup.”

Daniel gives her a reluctant look and for a moment she thinks he’s going to resume the argument they had earlier, but instead he nods. “Your call, Director.”  

Satisfied, she turns to Renaud and Yasin. “Agents, how is your disguise department?”

* * *

“Director Carter, are you sure about this?” Yasin asks from behind the wheel of the plumbing van. His arms stick out too far from the sleeves and the denim overalls look uncomfortably snug on his nearly six-and-a-half-foot tall frame. Wedged in the back seat next to Peggy, Agent Renaud fidgets with her collar and then rubs the corner of her mouth and smears her lipstick. She’s not terribly convincing as a secretary, but her disguise is more believable than Yasin as a plumber. Her face is rather red and Peggy suspects she’s trying hard not to laugh at her partner.

“It will work,” Peggy says confidently, patting down her hair—she too is playing the part of secretary, and they’re hoping to pass Daniel off as a diplomat’s aide. Next to her, she sees the corner of his mouth twitch upward, and she remembers another ride with him in the back of a van and a different break-in that had miraculously worked. (Oh, sure, the night hadn’t exactly ended well for her, but they’d at least gotten in and found what they were looking for.) “Once we’re inside, Agent Yasin, you’re on the ground floor with Agent Sousa. Agent Renaud, you and I will sweep the upstairs rooms.”

“Make sure your radios are working,” Daniel adds. The new two-way radios Howard designed for them are discreet and small enough to be tucked in the collar of a man’s shirt or pinned on a woman’s blouse. “And be careful; we don’t know what we’re going to find here.”

What they do find at the Palais des Nations is a rather unimpressive security detail. Though the imposing front entrance appears to be well protected, the back entrance is covered by a single elderly guard. Peggy gets a brief glimpse of the man squinting in the sunshine as Yasin pulls the van around and gets out. “Excuse me, sir,” they hear the agent say in French. “I’m here to take a look at that leak in the bathroom.”

“Eh?”

“I’m the plumber,” Yasin says patiently. “I’m here to inspect your plumbing problem.”

There’s a long pause, and for a moment Peggy is certain this won’t work after all. But then the guard clears his throat. “I’ll go ask someone. You wait here.”

Peggy, Daniel, and Agent Renaud slip out of the van the moment the guard shuffles away. “Well done,” Peggy says to Yasin as she follows Daniel inside. “Join Agent Sousa as soon as you can.”

They studied the blueprints that morning and mapped out a search pattern, but the actual size of the building takes her aback—they could spend hours looking for the briefcase, and even then they might not find it. She knows the other two are thinking the same thing, and she preemptively heads off any opposition. “We stick to the plan,” she says. “Renaud, with me.”

Daniel catches her arm at the bottom of the staircase. “Be _careful_ ,” he reminds her.

“I will be.” She sees Renaud watching and she pulls her arm away reluctantly, casting one last look at her husband before following the other agent up to the second floor.

“Go around to the left,” she orders Renaud. “I’ll take the right side.” Her heels echo on the floor as she goes down the row of doors and checks inside each one—all offices and smaller meeting rooms, mostly unoccupied at this time of the day. No sign of the briefcase or the Hydra mole that took it.

At the far end of the hall, the door on her left opens out onto the balcony above the main conference room. She looks down to see dozens of diplomats and aides milling about, evidently on some sort of break between hearings, and it’s not long before she spots Daniel discreetly making his way along the wall towards the front of the room. She thinks back to what he told her at the hotel about the toll field work was taking on his body. Had she not noticed because he was good at hiding it, or because she hadn’t wanted to see?

She hears footsteps behind her and wheels around to see two men standing in the doorway. One has a gun in his right hand and a detonator in his left, and the second man has Agent Renaud in a headlock with his gun at her temple. The radio on her collar was probably crushed when he grabbed her, Peggy realizes. The pair look like diplomats in their suits and ties, and her heart sinks further when it occurs to her that they might actually _be_ diplomats. “Director,” the second man says with the barest trace of a Spanish accent, “I knew you would come.”

Peggy focuses on the detonator in the first man’s hand. His thumb hovers just above the button. Daniel and Yasin are down on the floor below them searching for the briefcase—the bomb. “What did you do with the woman who had the briefcase? Where did you hide it?”

“Oh, there’s only one way to deal with traitors,” the first man answers. “And I thought the most suitable spot for the bomb might be by the American delegation.”

“It’s by the American delegation,” she repeats as she fingers the small pin on her collar, praying that her voice comes through the radio clearly. Daniel will know what to do. She has to trust him and give him the time to finish the job. “This isn’t necessary. Let her go.”

The second man smiles. “You have a decision to make, Director. Say the word, and I kill your agent. You walk away, your husband walks away, the convention continues. Refuse, and my colleague triggers the bomb. You’ll be in the privileged position of being able to watch history in the making: a witness to the beginning of the next world war.”

“Why is Hydra doing this?” Peggy asks. She’s calculating whether she could draw her gun and shoot before the first man could press the detonator. The odds are not favorable. She allows herself to meet Renaud’s gaze briefly and sees fear in the younger agent’s eyes, but also resolve. She is ready to die if necessary. Peggy knows that look too well.

“What better way to start a war than by blowing up a peace conference? It’s not that difficult to understand. Peace is bad for business. The war was tremendously profitable for certain parties—steel, fuel, weapons manufacturers, for one. Go ask your friend Howard Stark if you don’t believe me. The hypocrisy of using his money to fund your _peacetime_ operations is breathtaking. You’re no better than the rest of us.”

“So this is all about profit, then,” Peggy says, ignoring the jab. “And you? What’s in it for the two of you?”

He laughs. “We get to see everything come crashing down.” He tightens his grip around Renaud’s neck until she gasps.

“Enough stalling, Director,” the man with the detonator says. “Make your choice.”

There’s a sudden commotion on the floor below and shouts in a dozen different languages as diplomats and aides scatter. In those brief seconds of confusion, Renaud bites down hard on the man’s arm and Peggy tackles the man with the detonator to the ground. He drops the detonator and the gun goes off, the bullet ricocheting off the steel beam of the ceiling. He slams the barrel of the gun into the side of her head, and as Peggy reels, she sees Renaud grappling with her opponent on the floor, having escaped the headlock.

The man shoves Peggy off of him and reaches for the detonator lying a few feet away. She grabs his ankle and pulls him backward, and receives a kick to the face for her efforts. He snatches up the detonator and pushes the button triumphantly.

“No!” she cries in despair.

Nothing happens. The man swears and pushes the button again, then a third time, and keeps trying it until Peggy grabs a chair and brings it down so hard on his head the wood splinters. He drops to the ground unconscious as Renaud dispatches her attacker with a stomp to a sensitive area and Yasin bursts into the room, breathing hard. “Sorry!” he blurts. “We got held up down there but I’m ready to help—oh. I’m a little late.”

Peggy brushes herself off and glances at the unconscious man lying on the floor covered in splinters, and then at Renaud, who has the heel of her shoe hovering just above the Hydra agent’s neck. “Actually, I think you’re right on time.”

As she gathers up the Hydra agents’ weapons and catches her breath—she feels slightly nauseous, and she can already feel the bruises forming on her face and the side of her head—Yasin and Renaud handcuff the two men. “Are you all right?” she hears Yasin quietly ask his partner in French.

Renaud rubs her neck and nods. “Director Carter, I must apologize,” she says to Peggy. “They took me by surprise and I was not prepared.”

“There is no need for apologies, Agent Renaud. You did very well. You acted at the right moment and helped save dozens of lives.”

(Later, as the paperwork is completed back at the office and they prepare to transfer the two Hydra agents over to the better equipped Paris field office, she catches Renaud watching her, the question frozen between them: _what would you have chosen, Director? My life, or all of theirs?_ )

She turns to Agent Yasin. “What happened downstairs?”

“Once the briefcase was discovered, I helped evacuate the hall while Agent Sousa worked on disarming the bomb.” He shakes his head in amazement. “It’s fortunate that I had the plumbing toolkit with me, or I don’t know what we would have done.”

She closes her eyes briefly. _A near miss_. If their timing had been off, even by just a few seconds, they would be digging themselves out of the rubble by now. And Daniel would have been down there right next to the bomb…“Agents, the Swiss police will be arriving shortly. Please inform them about the situation and be on the lookout for any other bombs or traps that may have been planted. If you’ll excuse me, I would like to check on my husband.”

Peggy quickens her pace as she heads down the stairs to the main hall below and rushes through the doors to find Daniel near the head of the room, sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him. His jacket and his crutch lie discarded on the floor and the back of his shirt is soaked in sweat. Peggy doesn’t see the tangle of wires in the open briefcase on the ground next to him, or the tools from Yasin’s plumbing kit, or the overturned chairs and scattered papers the diplomats left behind when they fled. She drops to her knees in front of her husband, takes his face in her hands and kisses him until she runs out of breath, and then kisses him all over again.

* * *

Daniel lazily traces his finger around her stomach. “Boy or girl?”

“Boy,” she guesses.

He grins. “Girl.”

“Twins? Maybe we could have both.”

He looks positively horrified by the suggestion. “Don’t even say that. We don’t have the space.”

“Didn’t you tell me you wanted two children?”

“I didn’t mean I wanted them _simultaneously_.”

Peggy rolls over on her side and smiles at him. They’ve been back in the States for just a few days now, with the entire team hard at work wrapping up the mission report—the two Hydra agents they apprehended are, disturbingly, both diplomatic aides, one Bolivian and the other American—and decoding and analyzing the papers in the briefcase, but finally she and Daniel have a moment to rest. Both of them need it.

He smiles back at her. “Everything all right, Peg?”

“Yes,” she says distantly. “Just…now that we’re having a child, I was thinking about my mother and what she expected my future to be like. I don’t give her enough credit, I think. She figured out on her own that we don’t work for the phone company.”

He looks startled. “What did you say to her?”

“Nothing. She said I didn’t have to tell her anything; she just wanted me to promise her I would be careful, and I did.”

“Not an easy promise to keep in our line of work,” Daniel remarks. He squeezes her shoulder. “That night we arrived in Hampstead, and you went to shower, and it was just me and her for a little while? She spent the whole time talking about what you were like as a kid and showing me old photos of you and your brother. Maybe she doesn’t understand the life you’ve chosen for yourself, but she’s real proud of you.”

Peggy rubs her stomach. It’s still too early to feel the baby moving, but somewhere under her skin, a second tiny heart is beating. She doesn’t quite have the words to convey to Daniel the emotions she’s feeling now; all the fears and hopes for this child she’s been carrying. She wonders what her mother dreamed of when she carried her.

Ever since Peggy left home at nineteen, she has had dreams of walking through the fog until she arrives at two doors. One leads back to Hampstead, to her parents’ kitchen table, to certainty and comfort. The other door takes her into the wild and unknown; to the world yet to come. Its limitless potential frightens her and calls to her all the same.

“I don’t know what comes next for us,” she confesses to Daniel, and hopes he will understand. “What if we muck everything up?”

His eyes are so dark and so full of love. “Then we muck it up together. We just do the best we can, Peg. We move forward. That’s all any of us can do.”

“Together, then.” She pulls him close and kisses him.

They lie there in contented silence for a few minutes before Daniel speaks again. “You do still owe me for losing all my shirts.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” She winds her fingers through his hair. “How about I start making it up to you now?”

He tightens his grip around her waist. “Show me what you have in mind, Mrs. Sousa.”

So she does. Thoroughly.

* * *

The clock reads just after 6 when she wakes. She leans forward and kisses Daniel, drooling on the pillow beside her. Humming to herself, she makes her way to the kitchen, sets the kettle on the stove, and munches on a piece of bread and watches the sunrise while she waits for the water to boil.

“Good morning, baby,” she murmurs, placing a hand on her stomach. London is eight hours ahead of Los Angeles. Her father might be fixing up his old car right now, or taking a nap on the couch. Her mother might be reading a novel, or pulling weeds in the garden, or, like Peggy, perhaps she is sitting at the kitchen table while her tea steeps. The thought of that warms her. Half a world away, and yet she’s never felt closer. She picks up the phone and calls her mother to tell her the wonderful news.

**Author's Note:**

> Amanda Carter, naturally, already knew what Peggy was calling about, because she's got her own well-developed investigative skills.
> 
> The diplomatic conference taking place in Geneva over the course of several months in 1949 would be the Geneva Conventions, which resulted in updates to the previous conventions and the adoption of a new protocol regarding the protection of civilians in war. (I was not able to confirm that the Palais des Nations--formerly the League of Nations headquarters and now the UN office at Geneva--was where the conference was held. If you have any information about this, I'd love to know and will happily make changes if necessary.)


End file.
